


Story Starters

by Rixesppha



Category: Naruto
Genre: Author Headcanons, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, Naruto Gets The Training He Deserves, Not Canon Compliant, Smart Uzumaki Naruto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixesppha/pseuds/Rixesppha
Summary: A collection of story ideas from multiple fandoms that never went very far.





	1. Sarutobi Sorako

Sarutobi Hiruzen exhaled a long, thin trail of smoke. The Hokage had forgone his hat and robes, and stood at the window to his office, watching with old eyes as the hustle and bustle of the village he was tasked to protect and lead winded down after a long summer day. The air inside his office was almost stifling in its heat; nothing moved, even with the windows thrown wide open, and sweat gathered on Hiruzen’s brow. He puffed several more times at his pipe, content to simply observe the sunset in silence.

There was a slight shuffling outside the door; a mere formality that his current secretary (and back up guard) had to let him know when she was approaching. Hiruzen stifled a sigh, wanting nothing more than to finish his pipe and retire to the Sarutobi Clan compound, where he could eat dinner and maybe even read that scroll he had been meaning to for months, in silence. Complete silence, as he was both the Hokage and the Head of the Sarutobi Clan, which meant he received his own house to live in, but his wife had passed, one of his children was dead, the other two not even living in Konoha anymore, and his grandson lived with his maternal aunt on the other side of the compound.

On second thought, being interrupted was more interesting than that. 

“Come in, Michika-san.” He called, pulling his pipe from his lips. He could sense the chakra of the woman next to his secretary; Fire natured, with a Wind secondary, and pleasantly round in a sense that most men’s chakra was not. Familiar, as well, but he couldn’t quite place it. Perhaps one of his clansmen, come to see him for some small grievance? 

“Hokage-sama, you have a visitor.” Michika-san was a second generation shinobi, who was on the secretarial-bodyguard rotation from the T&I Division; Hiruzen noted the waver of surprise in her voice despite her extensive training and wondered who had come in with her, still watching the sunset.

“Sorry to interrupt, Tou-san.” 

Hiruzen’s brain stuttered momentarily. That was his daughter’s voice, certainly; the lower timber, just like Biwako’s, more of an autumn night that a spring morning. But the pitch and cadence of her words was measured in a way that Sorako had never quite managed as a child, too brash and headstrong to consider taking elocution lessons, or holding on to whatever her kunoichi teacher had pounded into her head for long. He turned.

Sarutobi Sorako stood several meters into his office, a gentle smile on her face. Michika-san had retreated from the room, not quite closing the door but allowing a sense of privacy for the Hokage and his returned daughter.

“…Sorako-chan.”

She was… stunning. More than that, his only daughter was elegant and beautiful in the way of court ladies and proper, civilian princesses: her simplistic, peach colored kimono had no dirt, no stains, her geta were carefully cleaned and without the tells of mending, despite being clearly old from the wear marks, and her hair was piled gracefully on top of her head, held in place by what looked like several B-Ranked missions worth of expensive golden hair pins, tipped with pearls and jade chips.

“Tou-san.” She repeated, bowing ever so slightly from the waist. Hiruzen crossed the room in three steps, bringing his arms up in a telegraphed move to rest on her shoulders. Up close he could see that there was still a faint scar underneath her nose from where Asuma had shoved her down a hill as a child, and her eyes had darkened to the pure earth tones of his late wife, and were ever so lightly lined with kohl.

“It is good to see you.” He whispered, and Sorako’s face broke into a wide, cheerful grin as she brought her own arms up and pulled him close in a tight hug. She smelled… carefully of nothing, Hiruzen noted in the back of his mind. Clean, certainly, but in a way that spoke of scentless soaps and cold water baths instead of the rose water most court ladies used to keep themselves clean.

The two broke apart, and the grin on her face softened down into a demurer, content smile. Hiruzen eyed her again; noting that several of the pins in her hair could be pulled out and used as makeshift brass knuckles, and he was quite certain that several of them were sharpened to a deadly point. There was also the issue of her fan, tucked into the obi at her waist, that he made an educated guess as to being ribbed with steel instead of wood.

“Still a shinobi at heart, I see.”

“Of course, Tou-chan. I simply had to take a few steps to the left of where I imagined myself at 10 years old.”

Hiruzen’s eyes scrunched up at the edges, remembering. Sorako had been a wild child, insistent on learning front line combat techniques just like her twin brother, and never sitting still long enough for anything remotely ‘feminine’ to stick. He could still feel the bruises on his shins he had received when he had tried to stuff her into a pink kimono for a festival when she was 6 years old; her kick could down a brick wall.

But not anymore. In the same attack that had taken so many lives of Konoha’s civilians and shinobi forces, that had taken Minato and Kushina and Biwako from him, Sorako had broken her leg. Trapped underneath a fallen building for three days before she was found, the bone had never healed correctly even with the application of iryojutsu, and the chakra pathways were damaged alongside the muscle itself. Her right left could no longer channel chakra perfectly, or hold all her weight, causing his spitfire daughter to shelve her childhood dream of being the next Nidaime Hokage at only 14 years old.

“But as beautiful as ever, daughter. Have you come to visit, then?” He swiped the robes of office from his desk and pulled them on, feeling the sweat beginning to form on the top of his spine with the addition of another layer. The Hokage hat was next, resting on his head, parallel to the ground.

“No, I am returning for good.”

He almost choked on his pipe, but managed not to, instead turning to raise one bushy, gray eyebrow in her direction. Sorako saw it, if the slight pursing of her lips was any indication.

“Don’t act so shocked, Tou-san. Nii-chan is coming back soon too, when his required time is done with. It’s been seven years, and I am quite done with the pushy, frumpy, stupid women at court. Did you know, one of them tried to get me to marry her son? Her just barely turned 14 son?” 

Sorako’s voice had pitched up at the end in incredulous frustration, and Hiruzen couldn’t help but laugh. Certainly, it would be nice – if strange and possibly tense, as his relationship with his son was much more strained than his one with Sorako – to have his children back in the village, where he would see them often and could be a part of their lives again. 

“What did you tell her then, Sora-chan?”

The childhood nickname makes Sorako pause and smile at him momentarily, and the two of them leave the office (through his door, like normal people, instead of how most of his jonin seemed to think the window was a perfectly acceptable entry and exit), Hiruzen waving a simple goodbye to Michika, who watched the two leave with intense eyes. He was certain that the news of his daughters return (and Asuma’s, there was no possible way Michika missed that) would be spread like wildfire through the T&I Division and the rest of the village before long.

“Well, I politely declined her offer, and said that I was not in the market for child grooms – of course, I was much politer in saying so, but I truly wanted to tell her that I wouldn’t stoop to marrying a boy who hadn’t even finished going through puberty.”

Hiruzen smiled even wider at his daughter’s easy chatter, the loneliness in his heart lifting some as they walked outside into the humid and muggy heat of a summer evening. 

~-~

Sorako resisted the urge to stretch out of her seat, bored out of her mind. She had been back in Konoha for exactly a day, and already she had nothing to do; her things wouldn’t arrive from the Capitol until the next day, except for the few things she had brought with her, her brother was still in the Capitol with his friends, and she had waved her father off that morning after sharing breakfast. She had greeted the rest of her extended family for most of the morning, reacquainting herself with her various cousins, aunts and uncles, but that had lasted for only as long as most could spare.

She hadn’t even gotten to meet little Konohamaru yet, and he was her closest relation beside her father, but that was because he was still sleeping when she had gone by Ai-san’s house that morning. 

So there she was, sitting to the side of one of the smaller parks near the old Police Station, watching the surrounding children play with each other underneath the shade of her paper umbrella. She had worn the only clean kimono she had appropriate for going out in yesterday, and so today she was in one of her mothers old houmongi. It fit differently on her frame, Sorako being slighter across the shoulders but fuller in the bust than her mother ever had been, and was in a dark shade of earth brown with a plain, cream obi. Not colors Sorako would have chosen, preferring things with flower print herself, but her mother had been a serviceable and practical woman.

“-dun wanna play with you! ‘Cause you’re gross!”

Her ears caught the sounds of children mocking each other, and she tracked it across the park. Several children of various ages, perhaps ranging from 6 to 10, were grouped together, facing against an unseen other person. Sorako strained her ears a little farther to try and hear what they were arguing about, noting the marks on some of the childrens clothing that pertained to different clans throughout Konoha.

“Yeah, well you’re just a freak! Nobody wants to play with you because you’re freaky!”

The eldest of the lot spoke with the kind of malicious intent only children could obtain, before they realized that other people felt and hurt like they did, with words meant to rake deep gouges in self-esteem. Sorako couldn’t suppress a wince as the rest of the children jeered in agreement, beginning to spread into a circle, surrounding whoever was in the center. She frowned. She could see several adults, near enough to hear the fighting, who were doing nothing. In fact, she was certain she had just seen an older woman glance over, and frown heavily, before looking away. 

Huffing to herself, Sorako stood and with several graceful strides, made her way to the group of children, who were still jeering and yelling at the huddled form in the center of their circle. A heavy frown marred her face as she loomed over the children.

“What, exactly, do you think you are doing?” Her voice whipped through the angry sounds like the most disapproving of school teachers, and several of the children started, having not noticed her approach.

“We’re just teachin’ the freak.” One of the younger children piped up. Sorako raised an eyebrow and exuded as much disapproval as she could without slipping into KI.

“And why exactly do you think it is your job to teach anything? From what I see, you are nothing more than schoolyard bullies taking advantage of someone who does not want to fight back. There is no teaching happening here, only a group of children ganging up on another and being mean.”

She frowned even harder and then raised her eyes to look around, seeing several adults watching her scold their children.

“Please go to your parents and inform them that if I see this happening again, I will be severely upset. It is unbecoming of any citizen of Konoha to act like a common thug.” She waited until the children had all scuttled away, before turning to the one who had been picked on, who was still crouched on the ground, although the arms that had been cradling his head had been dropped.

Sorako almost dropped her umbrella. Staring up at her was a tiny boy with wide, blue eyes and fly away blond hair, and three distinct whisker marks on each cheek.

“…what is your name, child?” She managed to say, praying fervently that she was wrong, that she had not been lied to, had not abandoned someone who wasn’t capable of taking care of themselves, had not disappointed her sensei so terribly.

“Uzumaki Naruto.” The boy mumbled, standing up straight and failing to meet her eyes. 

Sorako’s heart broke in half.

“I thought it might be.”

Seeing the little boy flinch at the sentence, Sorako crouched down in front of him, waiting for the bright blue eyes to make their way to her face with as much patience as she could manage with the beginning rumbling of anger in her bones.

“I did not mean it in a negative way, Naruto-kun. You look very much – “ Her voice hitched and her throat felt like sandpaper. “-you look very much like your mother.” 

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a little, staring at her with shock and confusion.

“You knew my kaa-chan?” His voice was so thin and hopeful, like everything he had ever wanted had been mocked and kicked down until there wasn’t anything left, like he knew that to keep hoping was going to end badly but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, I did. Your kaa-chan was my genin sensei.” Sorako smiled fondly, remembering days spent running like hell from an enraged Kushina after inserting her foot in her mouth, tugging her teammates alongside her, laughing. “She was one of my most precious people.” Sorako shook her head, looking at the 8 year old again.

At second glance, Sorako could see that he was thinner than was natural for a child his age, and his clothing was little more than rags. His blond hair was also greasy and dirty, and his skin littered with skid marks and dirt.

“…where’ve you been then?”

Throat closing, Sorako opened her mouth and shut it again. She couldn’t lie to this little boy, this little boy with Minato-sensei’s coloring and Kushina-sensei’s face, this little boy that she had sworn to always protect.

“When you were born, I was injured gravely. I was in the hospital for several months after your birth, and by the time I was out, I had been told that you had died. I do not know who lied to me, but Naruto-kun, I am so sorry for leaving you.” She raised her left hand, the one that wasn’t holding her umbrella, to gently rest on his thin and bony shoulder. Her eyes never left his, and the look on his face was enough to make her heart weep in a mix of frustration, anger and sadness.

“My name is Sorako, and I am your godmother.”

~-~

Life with Sorako-nee-chan was different, Naruto decided. Obviously, it would be different, since the first thing she did was stop a bunch of kids from bullying him unlike every other adult in the village, and then apologize to him for never being there. She’d even bought him food – real food! – and when the manager had tried to throw him out (like he always did whenever Naruto wanted to come inside, even if it was just to escape the rain or the cold), Sorako-nee-chan had glared at the man until he went away!

Naruto wanted to learn how to do that. 

Sorako-nee-chan had also showed him to where she was staying (a really pretty house in a clan compound; he hadn’t been able to see what clan though) and let him use her bathroom to clean himself, and had given him some old clothes to wear while she washed his. 

Wearing a baggy blue t-shirt and loose gray shorts, Naruto went looking for his new best friend, wide blue eyes taking in everything he could see. The house was very traditional, with tatami mats and sliding screen doors, nothing at all like the orphanage or the tiny apartment jii-san had given him. There were lots of pretty artwork hanging from the interior walls, and the walls themselves were painted a calming dark green.

“Nee-chan?”

There was the faintest of ruffling sounds, and a nearby door slid open, Sorako-nee-chan leaning out of it. Her face softened into another smile when she saw him – which Naruto was not used to – and she beckoned for him to join her.

“Did you enjoy your bath, Naruto-chan?”

~-~

“Ami-chan.”

Sorako-sensei’s voice was as soft as ever, like a lotus flower dappled in sunlight. But it was the first time she had talked after her instructions the entire lesson, and the giggling group of girls in the corner quickly stopped. Sakura watched with wide green eyes as Sorako-sensei rose from her spot at the front of the classroom and glided forwards, hands tucked away in the wide green sleeves of her kimono.

“Yes, sensei?”

Sakura had never really gotten along with Ami; after Ami had made fun of her forehead at the beginning of their time in the Academy, Sakura had taken every opportunity to shove it in Ami’s face that she was smarter. 

“I realize that having your first crush is distracting, but when you enter this classroom I expect a kunoichi willing to learn, not a civilian girl distracted by thoughts of love.”

The rest of the girls in the class watched, shocked. Sorako-sensei was usually very kind and forgiving. Ami wilted a little in place. Nobody liked upsetting their lovely and endlessly kind sensei.

“I know that I sound harsh, but it is my duty to make certain you live. This may seem pointless, but sometimes even the smallest and most worthless of things may save your life. A puppy crush is not worth your life, Ami-chan. Do you understand?”

Ami nodded, eyes watery.

“A verbal response, please.”

“Y-yes, Sorako-sensei.”

Sensei smiled and swept her gaze across the class.

“First crushes can be incredibly distracting, it is nothing to be ashamed of; the first time I had a crush on a boy, I tripped over my feet and knocked him into a fence while carrying a can of paint. The both of us were getting paint out of our hair for weeks.”

The classroom filled with giggles, although Sakura was finding it hard to imagine the incredibly graceful Sorako-sensei tripping. 

“And the first time a boy asked me out on a date, I do believe I thought he was joking, and invited the rest of our team to dinner. So please girls, go out and fall in love. Be children. Enjoy your life, frustrate your parents, eat new foods, make friends. But when you come through the door of my classroom, it is the unfortunate truth of a shinobi village that children never truly get to be children, and it is my duty to turn you into soldiers. So leave that at the door.”

“Yes, sensei.” The class chorused together. Sakura bit her lip and continued to fuss with the bouquet of flowers sitting on the table in front of her. 

~-~

After the class was over, Sakura went to the end of the line of children leaving, intent on talking with Sorako-sensei. 

“-your arrangement was particularly lovely today, Hinata-chan.”

“T-thank y-you, Sorako-sensei.”

The Hyuuga girl bowed and escaped out the door, and Sakura was the only one left. She gulped, looking up into the soft brown eyes of her teacher.

“Can I ask you a question, Sorako-sensei?”

Sorako-sensei raised a single eyebrow but nodded her head.

“But of course, Sakura-chan. Is something wrong?”

Shaking her head, Sakura took a deep breath of air. 

“What did you mean by it’s the unfortunate truth of children not getting to be children?” 

Sakura was only 10 years old, slated to graduate the Academy in two years with the rest of her class. She was the daughter of Mebuki and Kizashi Haruno, and had a normal and happy childhood. She had started attending classes at the Academy at the age of 6. 

“Ah, yes. I was wondering if anyone would ask about that. Here, Sakura-chan. This will be a long explanation; would you like to walk with me?”

They left the classroom, quietly walking down the hallways. Sorako-sensei hummed a small bit into the silence.

“What is a shinobi’s purpose, Sakura-chan?”

Sakura frowned. That was easy, wasn’t it?”

“To protect the village.”

“A lovely answer, I’m certain. That is how the Academy teaches it; perhaps I should start off differently. How many children attended your first year of classes?”

The pinkette thought back. At 6, her class had felt enormous, but she had never attended school before that. But as the years went on, the classroom population dwindled to where it was now, with roughly 20 children. Sakura could name all of them.

“A lot more than there are now, sensei.”

Sorako-sensei nodded, opening the door to the stairwell and leading the way up a floor.

“The Academy accepts any child who fits the requirements, no matter of background. Civilian or from a clan, it does not matter. It is the reality of politics that the amount of civilian children causes the curriculum to be changed; Civilian Council members do not like it when their young children are told that to be a shinobi, they must learn to kill, lie and steal.”

Sakura listened with wide eyes, barely paying attention to where Sorako-sensei was leading. This was interesting!

“So the true fact of a shinobi’s existence is left to Jonin sensei, to other teachers after graduates have left the Academy and are no longer considered a part of the civilian world. A shinobi’s purpose is to do what they are directed to do, Sakura-chan. Shinobi are killers, assassins, and the pillars upon which Hidden Villages are built. Yes, we protect the village and the people in it. But it is not glamourous, not pretty or easy. This Village is built on sweat and tears and blood, and it is kept safe through the actions of shinobi every day.”

Sakura’s mouth was dry.

“There is never an easy way to explain this to children, because it is not easy. Being a shinobi means you follow the orders of your Hokage, and your team captain. And if your Hokage says that you are to kill a man, you do not disobey. You ask how and when.”

Sorako-sensei opened a door at the end of the hall that led to the other side of the building, where the Academy stopped and the Missions Office and Hokage’s seat started. Sakura stared up at her with huge eyes.

“Sakura-chan, what made you want to be a shinobi?”

The girl started. 

“Uhm- I was in the park playing when I was really little…and I wandered too far, and got lost. There was a really nice man who came and found me, later, with a shinobi headband. He was tall, and he seemed really strong, and he did the tree-hopping thing when he was carrying me…” She twisted her hands together, staring into the floor. “I remember that I wanted to be like him, so that I could help other kids.”

A hand landed on her hair and gently stroked through it, instead of messing it up like her father did.

“That is a good reason to become a shinobi. There is nothing wrong with wanting to protect the children of this village, Sakura. That is, perhaps, the greatest reason of all.”

Sorako-sensei put a single finger under Sakura’s chin and tilted her head up. 

“Remember that, alright? Remember the feeling of wanting to protect, and you will go very far indeed.”

Sakura nodded. 

“Yes, sensei! I will! And thank you very much!” She bowed low and Sorako-sensei laughed softly.

“You are very welcome, Sakura-chan. Now, I must go and find my wayward nephew for his own lessons, and I do believe you have a home to be getting back to?”  
Sakura yelped. She had been so intent on finding out what Sorako-sensei meant that she had forgotten about her parents!

“Oh no!” She darted back down the hallway.

~-~

“Nee-chan?”

Sorako looked up from the scroll she was reading, to see her wayward godson standing in the door to the main room of the house with a lost expression on his face. She put the scroll down and turned her entire attention to him, concerned. He had only gone to the hospital to visit his teammate and track down his sensei, what could have happened?

“Yes, Naruto-kun?”

The 12 year old boy entered the room and flopped down listlessly to sit next to her. Sorako gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him tighter to her side, even more worried than before. Naruto was a particularly touchy-feely young boy, owing to a childhood of touch starvation, but was not a quiet person by nature. 

“…you said I had a godfather, right?”

The older woman nodded. Had the prodigal spymaster returned home then?

“Yes, you do.”

The two sat in silence for several moment, Sorako waiting for Naruto to find his words and get out whatever it was he wanted to say. She faintly heard the front door open and the voice of her only student call out a greeting.

“In the main room, Neji-kun!” She called back. Naruto burrowed further into her side.

Neji entered the room, eyes immediately noticing the burr attached to Sorako’s side and frowning in concern. 

“Good evening, Shishou.” He bowed slightly and took up a seat on the opposite side of the table. 

“Good evening, Neji-kun. How was your day?”

“Not eventful. Gai-sensei is still too worried about Lee to pay attention to anything else, so I trained by myself for the day.”

Sorako nodded, absently running her hand through Naruto’s hair.

“Aa. Has Lee-kun woken up yet?”

Neji shook his head negatively. The three sat quietly again and eventually Naruto pulled away from her side to sit on his own.

“Could you tell me what you’ve said about my godfather before, nee-chan?”

Sorako nodded, humming to herself in thought. Only what she had said before…

“He’s considerably older than I am, but I’ve known him since I was very little. He’s an incurable pervert and a ridiculously strong shinobi, and an orphan.”

Neji looked between Naruto and herself, confused for the briefest of moments.

“…Nee-chan. Is my godfather… Does he have white hair?”

“Yes, he does. Very long white hair at that.”

“Okay.”

Naruto didn’t say anything else and Sorako went back to reading her scroll. Neji stood and made his way to the bookshelf to pick his own scroll out and they spent the rest of the natural daylight reading in quiet tandem, Naruto eventually falling asleep at the table. 

~-~

“How is it you’ve managed to be here for four years and still haven’t been out with old friends?”

Sorako looks up from her grade book, a soft smile spreading across her face.

“Good afternoon, Asuma-nii.”

Her elder twin brother huffed, his ever present cigarette dangling from his lips. He folded down next to her on the porch overlooking the courtyard, resting his arms on his knees and staring at her two students, who were carefully practicing bojutsu kata in the large cleared area.

“Seriously, Sora-chan. You’ve been here for four years, and you’re an Academy teacher who all the kids love. How has nobody seen you?”

He looked over, narrowing his eyes and pulling the cigarette from his mouth to puff out a cloud of smoke. Sorako shrugged delicately, folding her book closed and setting it off to the side alongside her pencil. She carefully didn’t look at her brother.

“I’m uncertain.”

Asuma rolled his eyes, lightly bumping her shoulder with his own.

“You’re still a bad liar. You’ve been avoiding everyone, haven’t you?”

Clack-clack went the two staffs, Neji’s voice floating a little higher than normal.

“..you are overbalancing your left side again..”

Sorako watched the two with a wistful smile on her face.

“I have. I suppose that’s my shinobi vice.” 

“Shinobi vice?” 

Even after so many years practically attached at the hip, Asuma was sometimes thrown by Sorako’s mind. She thought differently than he or their father did, than most shinobi did. Instead of jumps in logic, straight lines that perhaps took sharp turns when new information was collected, Sorako’s mind rolled in circles, constantly looking over old information until something new was introduced and her circle got bigger. She didn’t do logical thinking.

“You smoke, Tou-san smokes. Tsunade-baa-chan drinks and gambles, Jiraiya-jii-chan is an unabashed pervert. Kushina-sensei cooked her feelings, and Minato-sensei trained and put other people before himself instead of thinking about his own problems.”

Her voice was soft and almost whispery, and Asuma frowned at her.

“Then what’s yours?”

“Cowardice.”

Sorako stood abruptly, the movement less graceful than it could have been when her leg faltered, and she caught herself after a slight stumble. Asuma moved to follow her, standing at a more leisurely pace, and Sorako huffed.

“I miss the days when I was capable of outrunning you.” She murmured, one hand rubbing at her hip with a slight wince on her face. Asuma hummed.

“You never out ran me, little sister-“

“Of course I did. I very plainly remember beating you in a straight race at least three times, and passing you doing laps several times.”

The two stood and watched the two young boys beat each other up with practice staffs for several more minutes, until Asuma raised an arm and draped it around his twin’s shoulders, pulling her closer.

“You aren’t a coward, Sora. Maybe being a little cowardly, but not a coward.”

“Is there a difference?”

Asuma tightened his hold on her and tilted his head down onto her own, ignoring that he was slightly squishing her hairpins into his face.

“You came back and took over for your godson, became his primary supporter. You told Oyaji where to shove it when he lied to you. You got told that you’d never be a shinobi again and turned around and did it anyways, you left the only home you’d ever known to become a politician.”

Neither of them moved for several more minutes, and Asuma ignored the hitch in Sorako’s breathing. He knew she hated crying, hated showing other people that she was a cry baby.

“Thank you, nii-chan.” She finally whispered. 

“No problem.”

~-~

The final portion of the Chuunin Exams was going to be explosive, she could already tell. Dressed to the nines in one of her favorite furisode – turquoise throughout, fading to black at the hems with a water pattern along the bottom, with a print of white lotus flowers and lilies in diagonal swatches across the body, and large, bell-shaped sleeves instead of the more formal square cut, held in place with a golden hued brown obi with faint tree-ring patterns, a summer shade of orange-red as the obiage and a dark green obijime – with her hair piled up in a carefully constructed series of folds and buns with hair pins in the same flower shapes, Sorako carefully settled herself down next to her father in the Kage Box. Flipping her fan (black metal painted matte with the inner folds made of chakra-conductive fabric and painted with a water pattern) in front of her face, she looked out placidly.

It seemed like the entirety of Konoha had shown up for the Finals, alongside all of the foreign delegations: The genin competing were on the opposite side of the stadium from the Box, and Sorako picked out the pale figure of her apprentice and the bright blond hair of her godson without difficulty, also noticing the red-haired genin from Suna. She pursed her lips behind her fan. He would be trouble.

“Ah, Kazekage-sama!” Her father called, Sorako turning her head. The Kazekage made his way inside the box, followed by his two guards, and bowed his head.

“Hokage-sama.”

Her father smiled jovially, but Sorako – on high alert – caught the way his leg flexed, a tell her father was probably allowed at his advancing age that let her know he wasn’t entirely comfortable. She turned her focus back to the Kazekage, observing. There wasn’t anything off about his appearance – formal robes, hat of office, gait of a trained shinobi assured of his own strength… - but she trusted her fathers instincts.

“My daughter, Sarutobi Sorako.” He gestured at her, and she raised off her seat to give a minute bow, just enough to be considered courteous without being insolent.

“Kazekage-sama.”

She lifted her head, and for a moment their eyes locked. Sorako held herself, despite the full body shudder she could feel trying to come forth: those were the eyes of a psychopath.

Right. Perhaps explosive in more than one way. She sat back down, eyes across the stadium. What to do…

~-~

Gai stared. He couldn’t help himself – he knew he was gaping like some common, boorish thug, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

How long had she been back?

Noticing Asuma sliding over, Gai forced himself to look away and at his fellow jounin-sensei.

“I told her she should’ve talked to you all a long time ago.” He spoke around the cigarette in his mouth, quiet. 

“How long?”

For once, Gai was not exuberant, was not loud. It felt like someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart – as always, Sorako managed to affect him without even being near.

“She came home before I did.”

The jounin stared, stunned. Asuma had returned four years ago from his stint in the Twelve Guardians. Sorako – always the louder, more outgoing of the twins – had been in Konoha before that, and had…she had managed to avoid them all. That was not an accident.

“Are we talking about Sorako?”

Kakashi – his usually calm, hip Eternal Rival – had also come over, for all the world looking just like he had managed to step out of the way of his students flailing arms and was just standing near them. Gai envied his state of calm, though he also knew that Kakashi was a master of concealing emotions.

“She’s been teaching at the Academy for five years.”

With that, Asuma puffed a small cloud of smoke and left, regrouping with his Genin squad. Gai looked back across the stadium again. Sarutobi Sorako sat next to her father, dressed in a stunning shade of blue-green and holding a fan to match, looking for all the world like one of the many court ladies Gai had seen over the years, a placid smile upon her face.

Kakashi hummed.

“I guess I wasn’t the only one she avoided then. I wonder…”

The Hokage stood, and Gai tried to listen to his leader as he talked about the Chuunin Exams, and the final tournament, before turning it over to Genma, but the green-clad jounin found that he still couldn’t focus properly. His heart hurt. Sorako had obviously avoided him (all of them), if Asuma was the only one that knew she had returned. He hadn’t heard the faintest whisper of the Hokage’s daughter returning from the Capitol, and five years ago…He hadn’t taken any sort of long term missions, so he would have been in the village when it happened.

His heart hurt.

~-~

Sorako turned, feigning a cramp in her leg that wouldn’t allow her to flee. Orochimaru – damned traitor – had killed the Kazekage and taken his skin like the snake he was, and was now actively trying to kill her father.

As if she would let that happen. She may be upset with him, but he was her father, and she would fight for that. 

“Kukuku, how surprised I was to see you, little Sora-chan!”

She frowned at the nickname, batting away memories of when her father’s own previous Genin team would babysit her and her brothers, of long days learning about misdirection and the subtle art of chakra from the man in front of her.

“Please refrain from being so familiar with me.”

He laughed harder, ignoring her. It stung some, to be dismissed like she wasn’t a threat simply because she was no longer capable of the same things as the other members of her family, but she wanted that reaction. She wanted him to underestimate her, so she could take the time to find the perfect moment…

And when it came – moments after the First and Second Hokage’s resurrection of sorts – Sorako seized it, the hidden blades inside her fan piercing through the flesh of Orochimaru’s back to sever his spine at the waist. She twisted the fan as she drove it farther in, aware that what she was doing would permanently cripple him, if it did not kill him outright.

She would definitely have to spend time either with a Yamanaka or devote several months to longer meditation sessions to sort out the conflicting emotions she felt about maiming and potentially killing someone she used to call uncle.

“Sorako!”

She said nothing, removing her fan from the bloody hole and using it as a club across Orochimaru’s head, reinforced with chakra. He slumped to the ground and she looked up at the surprised faces of the Shodaime and Nidaime, and the surprised but understanding face of her father.

“Do you have any wire, tou-san?”

He moved forward quickly, pulling wire from one of his voluminous pockets and working quickly to bind Orochimaru’s arms separately, and then his ankles. Sorako flicked her fan, lightly bowing to the two supposedly dead Hokages.

“Shodaime-sama, Nidaime-sama.”

The Shodaime blinked multiple times, mouth gaping, while she thought the Nidaime looked almost approving.

“Sarutobi-chan.”

She nodded at the Nidaime’s guess.

“Sarutobi Sorako. Thank you for your sacrifice, Nidaime-sama. Otherwise my father would be dead.”

He bowed his head once. Her father coughed to get their attention.

“Once we seal his chakra, you two will return to the Other Side.”


	2. Dragwyla

With a sigh, Mina closes her phone and thumps her head against the headrest of her car. Sometimes, she truly despises over her situation. Why did she do this, why would she stick herself into a situation that required her to play human for 28 years, play nice for so long?

Then she would look at Emma Swan, and remember a little boy with eyes like his fathers and a grip on her heart just as tight, and go “Right. That’s why.” Suck it up, and continue on with the monotony. 

Sometimes she missed her little family so much her whole being ached, though; it was something Emma had definitely noticed, the sporadic bouts of depression Mina had, but the human had never bothered her about them past making certain Mina was alright. And Mina loved Emma dearly, saw her as a daughter almost, but she missed her little nephew, and her best friend and husband. 

~-~

Emma hummed, still getting used to the silence of the station. Storybrooke was so quiet compared to the other places she’d lived in her life. Even living in the apartment complex with Mary Margaret was almost too quiet, especially at night: Emma missed the near constant sound of her elder sister puttering around, insomnia forcing her awake at all hours.  
Blinking, the blonde woman stopped her writing for a second. Shit. Mina. She hadn’t – fuck, Mina was going to kill her.

~-~

“Mmm, I’m looking for an Emma Swan, have you seen her?”

Mina was almost vibrating; she recognized people, and she had felt the curse wash over her when she crossed the boundaries of the town; trying to force her mind to bend underneath an onslaught of memories that weren’t hers, trying to make her truly Wilhelmina Swan. It was almost cute, really, at how hard Regina wanted to subjugate people. An adorable little psychopath.

“Oh! Are- are you from around here?” The woman – not someone Mina recognized, no matter – stuttered, squinting like she was trying to place Mina in her memory. 

“No, no, Emma is my baby sister. Just checking up on her.” She smiled, making certain to only project sweet, beautiful things from her face. Her more natural smile tended to terrify people, and she really didn’t feel like already having to deal with a whole town of suspicion. 

“How sweet! There was an election two days ago and Emma Swan was elected our new Sherriff! She lives with Mary Margaret – “ The woman’s face twisted some in a parody of disgust at the name, and Mina catalogued it for later, “but that’s also her coming down the street.” She pointed behind Mina.

Mina turned, eyes alighting on her little sister, fully intent on berating her for leaving Mina to search for weeks to try and find her, only to stop short. She – was with Snow White. And a little boy Mina didn’t recognize, but could see the familial resemblance in all three people on the street, which led her to believe that this might be the little baby boy Emma gave up for adoption ten years ago. Either that, or Snow White had gotten busy at some point under the curse. 

~-~

Grumbling to himself, Rumplestiltskin moved to the front of his shop. There was quite a bit of yelling outside, and as much as he enjoyed a good spat, he had a slight headache and didn’t feel like dealing with it today.

“- Of course I’m going to go looking for you! You disappeared in the middle of the night, Emma!”

That voice was oddly familiar, and caused a clench in his chest. Rumplestiltskin blinked several times. No way was he this lucky; he was cursed, no good karma to speak of. 

“I’m 28 years old, Mina!”

“MIDDLE. OF. THE. NIGHT.”

“Okay, so I wasn’t thinking straight – “

“No, no, not thinking straight doesn’t get to include two weeks of radio silence! Two weeks doesn’t get to include moving to MAINE, getting a new job and completely forgetting to contact me! Two weeks doesn’t get to include me showing up at your apartment and realizing you were completely gone, paying to break your lease, packing your shit up and putting it away, quitting your other job for you, and then having to hunt you down across the Eastern Starboard!” The glorious sight of the black haired woman standing on the sidewalk almost caused his little black heart to stop. It was her! In all her currently incensed glory. Although, he could tell that she wasn’t truly angry, just annoyed at the incompetence and lack of forethought.

She glanced down at little Henry Mills, seemingly remembering she was in the company of a child.

“Oh, sorry kid. Don’t repeat that word, alright? I don’t want whoever your mom is to come and take off my head.” 

Swan cleared her throat, looking incredibly awkward. 

“Uh, Mina, this is Henry Mills. He’s, uhm, he’s…” She failed to speak for a moment.

“The kid you gave up for adoption? Yes, he has your nose.”

Swan stared, baffled at the leap in logic – Rumplestiltskin could also see it now, in that Henry shared the nose with his mother and his grandmother – before starting to laugh, and drawing the second most important person in Rumplestiltskin’s life into a tight hug.

“I missed you, Minnie.”

“Don’t mangle my name, brat. I missed you too.” 

She pulled away, placing her hands on her hips and tilting one out, an unfamiliar action that fit her well.

Rumplestiltskin decided it was more than time to see if the love of his life remembered him; if she did, he had his partner in crime – what a horrendous term. No. If she did, he had everything Wyla could bring to the table back with him: her companionship, her brain, her mischief and smiles, her willingness to do whatever it took, her dedicated to him and Bae. If she didn’t, well, he was frank enough with himself that he knew it would hurt. A lot.

“Are you all done shouting in front of my shop now?”

Swan jolted, not having noticed him, and Mary Margaret made the involuntary twitch most of the town residents had at his appearance. Henry smiled hesitantly, and Wyla turned around.

His throat tightened. She was just as gorgeous as he remembered – long, wavy black hair fell to her mid back, highlighting a highly defined face with full lips painted a deep, blood red, and a pair of crimson-brown eyes. She was also dressed in her typical black, although it was a set of high waisted pants with golden buttons and a tight, long sleeved shirt tucked into the pants instead of a dress.

“Sorry, I had to make certain my sister knew how stupid she’d been. I apologize for disturbing you…?” Her voice trailed off, clearly asking for his name. He searched her face for a moment, looking for a hint that she recognized him. Her lips quirked up at the side and she smiled in the way that was only for him.

Yes, it was his Wyla. His little black heart jumped in his chest and he struggled to not show his glee on his face.

“Mr. Gold. Richard Gold.”

From the taken back faces of the other three, it was apparent they had all expected him to be as cold and semi-rude to her as he was with the others; not offer her his full – albeit fake – name with a courteous smile that may have been considered flirtatious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't check the timeline of the first season when I wrote this, so I'm like 80% certain it's fucked lmao


End file.
